Sunday, August 03, 2014

All creativity begins with the moment of conception.That little piece of kindling that gets the fire going. That initial source of inspiration that takes on a life of its own. That single note from which the entire symphony grows. That single spark of life that signals an idea’s movement value, almost screaming to us, something wants to be built here.And so, in this new blog series, I’m going to be deconstructing my favorite moments of conception from popular movies. Each post will contain a video clip from a different film, along with a series of lessons we can learn from the characters.

Today's clip comes from the parking lot scene scene in Fight Club:What can we learn?

Carve a path back to
yourself. Jack initially pretends to be an impostor at support groups as an
emotional release to relieve his insomnia. But then he creates fight club. And
at first, it feels strange, but it’s a good strange. Flailing and gasping and
bleeding and stumbling, his eyes glaze over with endorphins and serenity. And
that’s when he realizes, they’ve crossed a threshold. To paraphrase from the original screenplay, at fight club, you weren’t alive anywhere
like you were there. After fight club, everything else in your life got the
volume turned down. You could deal with anything. The people who had power over
you had less and less. We all started seeing things differently. Wherever we
went. We should all be so lucky. Not
to pick fights with strangers in parking lots. But from a creative standpoint, we
all need our own version of fight club. A routine recreational activity makes us
feel alive. A venue that inoculates us against the sterility of the world. A platform
that offers a swift kick to the solar plexus. It’s an effective tool for
recalibrating the soul and keep creativity flowing. Do you have a portable, purposeful and private sanctuary to reconnect
with the self, the body and the spirit?

Happiness only real
when shared. We’re not only watching two men fighting, we’re witnessing a
conceptual beginning. As they sit on the hood of the car, there’s no doubt that
something wants to be built here. The experience is simply too meaningful. But
the key is the final line of the scene.
We should do this again sometime. That’s precisely the right attitude to
have in this experience. Because when we find something that has
existential resonance for us, the essential next step is sharing that discovery
with another person. It makes it more real. Otherwise we’re just living inside
our own heads, winking in the dark, playing basketball without a backboard. I
remember the first time I played music in the tunnel under the arch by my house. I came back home a changed
man. And I told everybody. Because when you finally find the physical
conditions that elicit your best work, you want to shout it from the rooftops. How often are you sharing what really matters to you?

Your body will never
lie to you. This movie is dark, violent, nihilistic and sinister. But it’s
also a beautiful example of the relationship between creativity and physicality.
After all, the shortest
distance to the brain is through the body.And if there’s something we want to achieve
artistically, often times, we can back into that creation by changing our sheer
physicality. One medium in which I’ve noticed this relationship play out is
songwriting. I’ve been composing music for over twenty years, but only in the
past three did I start playing standing up. That one decision changed
everything for me. From the experience practicing, my music became more invigorating. To the experience of performing,my music became more effective. To the experience of listening, my music became more
enthralling. Even the music itself reflects this new shift in energy and position,
as my songs have become dramatically faster, louder and more muscular than any
of my previous work. All because I got my ass out of the chair and let my body
dictate. Are you creating the physical
conditions that elicit your best work?